With An Iron Fist
by Brother Brain
Summary: The Space Pirates are feared throughout the known universe. Vicious, amoral, mysterious, they plague the Galctic Federation from all sides. In such a large universe, it would be impossible for them to always lose.


The Hyndrons were a dying race. Their home planet had been destroyed only a few standard planetary rotations ago due to a geothermal destabilization, leaving only a scattering of colonies and those who had been visiting other worlds. The Galactic Federation had taken up the survivors, absorbing them into the Federation and attempting to secure them a new world to call their own.

But they couldn't save all of them. Take the colony world HD-724 for example. In the ensuing chaos, they had lost communications with the homeworld, and by extension, the rest of the galaxy. Less than a day passed before the Space Pirates descended on the world to claim it.

Because the race had not yet fully joined the Federation, they had no external forces to call on for aid. The pirates decimated their meager defenses in just over an hour. Shortly after that, ground troops landed to capture the populace. In under a day, the pirates owned the world.

Above the planet, a small ship detached from the belly of a pirate carrier. A dark olive green, it had a pointed prow with a half dozen blade like projections sweeping back around the engine. An orange bubble of a cockpit nestled on the left side of the ship, while a cluster of heavy weapons occupied the mirror location on the right.

The craft dropped through the atmosphere and flew above the surface. Where there had once been lush forests, swamps, and plains, there were now massive craters and strip mines. Many were created when the pirate fleet had bombarded the surface shortly after the invasion in order to speed up the excavation process, but many others were made by workers.

The ship slowed as it reached its destination. A large disk-like structure, with a dozen metallic legs around its rim gripping the edge of a crater to keep it suspended above. The topside was covered in sensor arrays, weapons placements, and landing platforms. On the underside, a large lift reached down to the bottom of the crater.

The ship slowed to a stop above a landing platform and began to descend. Small insectoid limbs flipped out of the front as several of the blade-like shapes along the back bent on in-built joints to become landing gear. A space pirate walked out to the ship as it settled onto the platform and the cockpit hissed open.

The pilot who stepped out was covered from head to toe in dense armor plates the same color as the ship. A golden oval visor covered the face and it held a bulky gun in its right hand. The space pirate brought its left fist to its chest and bowed its head. "Special Unit Weavel." It uttered.

Weavel shot the pirate a glance and returned the salute. "Identify." He commanded.

The pirate bent its head again as it replied. "Commando unit K-879."

Weavel nodded. "I am here to inspect this facility."

"I understand sir," the commando replied, "I am to show you around the facility so that you may make a proper assessment."

"Is your commander too busy to do this himself?" Weavel replied.

"Commander Grodak is…" The commando hesitated, "Otherwise occupied."

Weavel scoffed, a harsh static-laced sound due to his electronic voicebox. "Looting the ruins of the cities no doubt." He waved a hand. "Very well. Show me your facility."

The pair walked towards the hatch, which slid open automatically as it detected their identification chips. "The base itself is a standard pre-fabrication observation model," 879 said as he gestured around them, "Dropped from orbit, where an automated system guided it to the landing location and implanted itself."

Weavel nodded as he looked at a pirate pushing a hovercart of containers filled with golden dust. "Why this location?" he asked.

The commando gestured at the cart. "This crater is located above the richest vein of afloraltite we could detect. The location allows for more efficient collection of product for transport to orbit."

The hallway opened up into a large circular chamber with large tanks of afloraltite being removed from the center of the room. The pair stepped over a red ring marked on the floor as the last of the containers were taken away. 879 pressed a button on his forearm and the platform began to descend.

"Our current output is slightly below expected," 879 narrated as the lift lowered into the crater, "But we expect that we can achieve our desired efficiency when our shipment of excavation equipment arrives."

The lift slowed to a stop as it reached the floor of the crater, short legs unfolding from the bottom to support it on the roughly excavated ground. The commando stepped off the platform and gestured to the strip mine constructed in the crater. "For now, the populace of the colony will suffice for labor."

Around them, the Hyndrons worked to excavate the afloraltite from the ground. Hundreds of them, from the floor of the crater to the rim, standing on ledges gouged into the broken ground. Several would use handheld drills to gouge away the ground until they uncovered a chunk of afloraltite, when another armed with a combination grinder and vacuum would harvest it. Space Pirates patrolled around them, lashing energy whips at those who faltered in their production. The whips weren't necessary, as each prisoner was fitted with a chip that activated their pain receptors with the press of a button. The whips merely activated these chips, as they carried a more immediate threat then a remote.

The Hyndrons were a race of bipedal reptomammals, with hides ranging from purple to green to red in hue. Each would receive a familial tattoo at birth that covered the right half of their face, with the left half being filled in with that of their mate when they chose one. The tattoos would then be merged into a single design and applied to the right half of their children's faces, and the cycle would begin again. Looking around, Weavel could see the family trees of centuries worth of Hyndrons on the faces of the slaves around him. But below that, he could see the fear and despair of a people who had lost everything. He had seen it enough times to recognize it.

Except one. A male with both halves of his face filled in with black and purple ink and dark red skin. He didn't have the apprehensive and subservient look of those around him, but instead shot subversive glances towards the pair of pirates who had just arrived.

Weavel made a subtle gesture with his arm toward the Hyndron. "Let's walk that way." He said, interrupting 879.

"Of course sir." The commando quickly replied.

"The populace makes for easily available labor," 879 said as they walked down the path, "We've been feeding them the new hyper-condensed rations Science Team created for field troops. A few have fallen ill due to chemistry incompatibility, but they provide valuable data."

"Have there been any rebellion attempts?" Weavel asked.

879 shook his head. "Nothing major. A few tried to strike in the early days, but we made examples of them and broadcast it to the others." He pointed above them to a series of spherical drones floating around the crater. Each had orange optics scattered across its surface and a miniature spotlight set in a swivel socket mounted on its underside. "The surveillance drones allow us to keep an eye on them and prevent any large scale insurrection." He explained, "They also have projectors to ensure the entire populace can witness what we wish to show them."

Weavel shot him a sideways glance. They were nearly to the Hyndron he'd been eying. "What about individual acts?" he asked.

"We can't prevent all of those," 879 said, "But we can quickly-"

They were only a few steps away when it happened. The Hyndron dropped his drill and rose to his feet, pulling something from under his rags. "Freedom to Hyndrons!" he screamed. Weavel had less than a second to react. His electronic eyes registered the object as a micropistol, probably hidden on his person when he was captured or smuggled in later. His robotic limbs would let him dodge the shot by judging the angle of fire, or let him shoot the attacker dead before he got the chance.

Weavel stood motionless as the Hyndron aimed and fired. The shot struck home on the center of his visor. Weavel didn't react to that either. The attacker's face fell as he realized his assassination attempt had failed.

879 moved to cut him down in response when Weavel held up a hand. "No." he commanded. He handed 879 his Battlehammer. "Hold this. And tell the guards to broadcast this to the prisoners"

He walked slowly towards the Hyndron. The would-be assassin panicked and shot at him in a vain attempt to keep him away. Weavel ignored the fire as he advanced until he reached the attacker. His left hand shot out and grabbed the Hyndron's wrist. Weavel squeezed until the bones shattered in his grip and the Hyndron dropped the gun. As the weapon fell, he raised his right hand with the fingers held together like a blade and swung it at the elbow of the arm he held.

The Hyndron screamed and fell back, clutching the stump where his forearm used to be. Weavel tossed the limb to the ground and followed him, reaching out to grab the rags he wore. A quick blow snapped his head to the side and cracked his jaw. Another two crushed ribs. A fourth broke his other arm.

Weavel tossed his victim to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. "What did you hope to accomplish?" he bellowed, activating his translator so the slaves around him could understand, "Did you think you would start an insurrection? Free your people from mine?"

He gestured around them. "Look around! What do you see?" By now a sizable group of pirates had gathered to watch, with a trio of surveillance drones circling overhead. Some of the Hyndrons made half-hearted pretenses at working, but they were watching too. Though the pistol was laying on the ground, none had tried to take it.

"No one has joined you!" Weavel exclaimed, "Not one has tried to aid your attack!" He walked over to the pistol and picked it up. "Would any of you like to try?" He stepped closer to the Hyndrons and reversed his grip on the weapon, offering them the pistol. "Would you?" he asked, thrusting the gun at an elderly Hyndron. He shied away from the gun like it was a venomous creature. "Or you?" he asked, offering the pistol to another. She too avoided the gun, refusing to even look at it.

Weavel stepped back and looked around. His gaze fell on a female whose facial tattoos were the mirror of the attacker. "What about you?" he said, pointing at her. She tried to move back as he walked towards her. "No!" gasped the wounded attacker, forcing himself upright, "Leave her alone!" The pirates around them laughed cruelly at the display.

Weavel knelt down to eye level with her and offered her the gun. "What about you?" he asked calmly, "He's your mate isn't he?" She refused to look at him.

Weavel shook his head and made a rhythmic ticking noise, the synthetic version of clucking a tongue. He suddenly grabbed her hand and dragged it forward, then forced the gun into her palm. "Come on!" he urged, forcing her to grab the grip, "Take the gun!" He forced her finger into the trigger guard and dragged the barrel of the gun upward, pressing it into his visor. "Do it. Pull the trigger, show everyone that you can strike down the _monsters_ who enslaved you!"

"Do it!" the wounded attacker urged from behind him, "Kill it!" The female raised her gaze to look at Weavel. He could see fear in her eyes, but under that there was a glimmer of hate.

He tilted his head. "You want to," he said quietly, "But you're afraid of the results."

He was quiet for a moment. "Kill him." Weavel called, his head not moving an inch away from the pistol. The female screamed as the pirates immediately opened fire on the attempted rebel. He shuddered as the energy bolts burned holes in him, then slumped to the ground with a quiet sigh.

"Now," Weavel said, "Will you shoot me?" She looked away from the corpse of her husband to look at him again. The spark had grown into a fire, hate filling her eyes. She pulled the trigger.

Before she could, Weavel slapped her hand away, sending the shot wide. She didn't get a chance for a second shot. His other hand slammed into her chest, the mechanical strength of his body collapsing her ribs and crushing the organs within.

She toppled backward, twitching as her ruined organs tried to function. Weavel pulled the pistol from her slack fingers and stood up. "Let this be a lesson!" he yelled to the slaves, looking towards the circling drones for the benefit of the broadcast. "Do not be like him," he pointed to the corpse of his attacker, "And attempt to strike back out of delusions of a greater cause! Do not be like her," he pointed to the dying female, "And lash out in anger, because you feel we have wronged you! Do your jobs, work effectively, and once we have the machines to replace you, you will be relocated. You will not be free, but you will be alive! If you do not-" He turned and fired twice into the head of the female. "Then death will be your only reward."

He crushed the pistol in his hand and tossed it to the ground. "Now get back to work!" he yelled. The Hyndrons resumed their labors, hurried on by the lashes of the pirates. Weavel punched in a code on his forearm to end the broadcast and walked over to 879 to reclaim his gun.

"Contact Science Team and make sure they collect their new test subjects as soon as we get the machinery to replace them." He ordered the commando as he walked towards the lift, "And get me Commander Grodak. We have some issues to discuss."

* * *

AN: This story may be updated in the future, but it currently serves its purpose to characterize Weavel. I say may, but eventually I'll compel myself to expand it.

This also gives me the chance to show more about the space pirates than I usually would from Samus's perspective. A lot of it's little details, like how they salute and the relationship between different subgroups in the organization. For instance, the reason they salute with their left hand is that they have their gun on their right arm. This allows them to bring their ranged weapon to bear more quickly should they be attacked while greeting a superior. And given how pirate politics tend to work, that isn't exactly uncommon.

As for the Hyndrons, they aren't particularly important. You could replace them with just about any race and they'd serve the same purpose. I am a bit proud of the ancestry tattoo idea though, so I'll probably use that idea again later.

Reviews are always welcome and encouraged.


End file.
